A Demonic Tether?

By Moe Lane

Belial should have been happy.

It was just like Sheol, down to the breeze. As he
inhaled, he could feel the robust tang of carbon
monoxide, the sultry warmth of burning hydrocarbons
... and even a faint teasing hint of asbestos, dark
and rich and lingering on the tongue. There was smoke
everywhere, coyly framing the lascivious flames that
caressed the rubble. It was good rubble, too.

So much like home ... but not quite.

Where was the Tether?

Belial had felt the link spark into life,
broadcasting the appearance of yet another fragment of
Hell on Earth, and had eagerly jumped up to stabilize
it ... but he had been temporarily distracted by yet
another - oh, wonderful day! - fireball to the south
of whatever human nation he was in today. Of course,
he had to go see that one, too. No Tether there, but
it was nice and toasty while it lasted.

But when he went back north, the spark was gone ...
and Belial couldn't figure out why. If anything, it
should have been stronger: the Prince of Infernal Fire
had arrived just in time to see all those firemen be
buried under hundred of stories of burning wreckage.
That should have cemented things nicely - but Belial
had been looking for 20 minutes, now, and nothing was
happening.

No, wait. There was a hum of power ... but it wasn't
for his Word. The Prince of Infernal Fire stopped,
shocked, as the connection went Up, rather than Down.

"Surprised, traitor?"

Belial turned as Laurence leaned tiredly against a
soot-covered car, his fireman's jacket covered equally
with mud, glass, burn marks and less savory
substances. The Prince looked around quickly and
snapped his fingers, thus silently commanding every
mortal in the area currently leaning towards Hell to
go elsewhere.

Laurence snorted at the ostentatious display: his eyes
narrowed for a moment as he relayed a similar
suggestion to nearby mortals currently leaning towards
Heaven. There were notably more of them.

While weary, the Archangel's voice had a certain
satisfaction as he continued, "Sorry to disappoint
you, but I'm afraid that any potential link to Hell
died twenty minutes ago. Of natural causes. If it
makes you feel any better, Saminga never even got a
nibble."

"Natural causes? NATURAL CAUSES?" The Prince of
Infernal Fire is not given towards phelgmatic
behavior. "Impossible! Two planes! Two fireballs!
Two buildings going down, down, down! Fires raging
unchecked! People burning to death! All for my
glory! Mine!" The Prince of Infernal Fire is also
not given towards humility.

Laurence shook his head as he removed his fire jacket
and helmet. "Not this time, traitor. You got the
chance for a Tether when those scum embraced their
Fate ... and then you promptly lost it, thanks to the
humans you so foolishly despise." The Archangel waved
a hand.

"They killed your Tether when these oh-so-cynical and
uncaring humans stopped to unstinctingly help anyone
who needed it. They killed it when they rushed in,
heedless of their own safety, simply because someone
might still need rescuing. They killed it at the
price of their own lives when the towers finally
collapsed on them. None of them regretted the trade,
you see. I asked.

"There were two acts of cowardice done here this
morning - and several thousand acts of selfless
bravery. That makes this place MINE, demon, and you
have no place here." The Archangel of the Sword
straightened, his apparent fatigue suddenly dropping
from him like a cloak. His smile was serene as a
sword appeared in his hand, its blade already covered
with a thin film of frozen oxygen.

"Which brings us to our next topic of discussion.
Feel free to stay as long as you like: frankly, I need
the exercise..."